The circus arrives without warning.
The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not.
Most maidens are perfectly capable of rescuing themselves in my experience, at least the ones worth something, in any case.
You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone's soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows that they might do because of it, because of your words. That is your role, your gift.
I have tried to let you go and I cannot. I cannot stop thinking of you. I cannot stop dreaming about you.
You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone's soul
I am tired of trying to hold things together that cannot be held.
We must put effort and energy into anything we wish to change.
The circus looks abandoned and empty. But you think perhaps you can smell caramel wafting through the evening breeze, beneath the crisp scent of the autumn leaves. A subtle sweetness at the edges of the cold.
People see what they wish to see. And in most cases, what they are told that they see.
I am tired of trying to hold things together that cannot be held. Trying to control what cannot be controlled. I am tired of denying myself what I want for fear of breaking things I cannot fix. They will break no matter what we do.
The most difficult thing to read is time. Maybe because it changes so many things.
I couldn't tell the difference between what was real and what I wanted to be real.
But you built me dreams instead.
The finest of pleasures are always the unexpected ones.
But dreams have ways of turning into nightmares.
You think, as you walk away from Le Cirque des Rêves and into the creeping dawn, that you felt more awake within the confines of the circus. You are no longer quite certain which side of the fence is the dream.
You're in the right place at the right time, and you care enough to do what needs to be done. Sometimes that's enough.
And there are never really endings, happy or otherwise. Things keep going on, they overlap and blur, your story is part of your sister's story is part of many other stories, and there is no telling where any of them may lead.
The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not. Within the black-and-white striped canvas tents is an utterly unique experience full of breathtaking amazements. It is called Le Cirque des Rêves, and it is only open at night.
or simply:
